


Food for Thought

by nochekrovoche



Series: Vegetables are your Friends [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Is Gay, Family Feels, M/M, Minor Character Death, Thorin Is an Idiot, Vegetarians & Vegans, except those with children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:59:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochekrovoche/pseuds/nochekrovoche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo just moved to Erebor with his uncle, and on his first day of school, he's met the trouble-making Durins, sweet Ori, really tall Mister Elrond, and gasp! bully Bolg. And none of his new friends seem to understand the concept of eating vegetables. Well, he is not going to have any of it. If there's one thing Hobbits are good at, it's being stubborn about their food, and he will not have friends who cannot distinguish a cauliflower from broccoli(That's you Kili!).<br/>It doesn't help that Uncle Durin is the proud owner of The Lonely Mountain Barbeque and Grill Restaurant and thinks vegetables are weeds. Also, why does he keep looking at Uncle Bilbo? And why does Bolg keep eating his food?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Child of the Kindly West

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, except the plot. and the mistakes. :D

Frodo was staring at his cereal.

He knew that his Uncle worries when he’s quiet, but he couldn’t help it. The nightmares were keeping him up at night, and –not for the first time- he wished he was back at Shire with Sam, Merry and Pippin. Its days like these that he needed his friends more than anything, especially now when he’s in a new town without any. It’s a scary thought, to be out on your own, but nothing can be done now.

 _Buck up, Button._ He could almost hear his dad’s soothing voice, and Frodo wished he and his mum were there too.

“Eat your breakfast, Frodo. We’re going to be late if you keep that up.” Bilbo gently reminded him, patting the raven curls. The older man exhaled as he watched his nephew look sullenly at his breakfast, not really eating anything.

It had been a tiring week, and Bilbo hoped that the excitement of meeting new people and living in a bustling city would keep Frodo entertained for a while longer, just until he got his own handle of the situation.  Losing someone is always difficult. And although Frodo has yet to realize the extent of his loss, it hadn’t lessened the pain of missing someone. Especially parents. Something Bilbo himself was not a stranger to.

 

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Brushing down the child’s coat, Bilbo kept a litany of reminders for Frodo, as the child in question gawked at the looming building in front of them. It was a high-rised, rust-colored school and the gates seemed to stretch on forever at either sides, not like his old one in the Shire, with its soft-yellow walls and trimmed, flower hedges.

“-and remember, if you need me to come down and get you, you only need to ask Mister Elrond. He’s your new teacher, and I do hope you’ll behave for him.”

Bilbo knew he’s fussing too much, but his nerves always get the better of him. Given that it was the first time he had to be primarily responsible for the life of a child, he thought it’s completely warranted.

At least Elrond seemed to think so, as he watched the pair. The man gave them both a warm welcoming smile as they approached. He didn’t mind as the boy’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. Being  unusually tall and slender, most people are either awed or terrified by him, but these days, children tend to be impressed by his towering form, so he wasn’t too concerned.

“Welcome to Erebor, Mr. Baggins and Mr. Baggins.” He greeted, as he led them through the hallways. Frodo snorted unhappily. He watched closely as the dark-haired boy shifted his eyes from him to his uncle.

“I’m just Frodo Baggins, not a Mister yet!” stern words for someone so small, to which his uncle Bilbo sputtered and apologized for, with a hurried explanation that his nephew thought only older people are called ‘misters’. Elrond only gave the flustered man a sympathetic smile. He knew fully well the tribulations of new guardianship. In truth, he was a relieved by the reply. A willful lad, if a bit rude, beats a sulking child any day.

 

When they came into the designated room, there were already a few children milling about. Most were quietly sitting in their seats, still too early in the morning for their liking, but there were two particular boys who were being quite boisterous. They definitely seemed like mischievous children, and looked to be related, if the matching shirts, save for a printed ‘F’ on the blonde and a ‘K’ on the brunette, was anything to go by. At the moment, they seem to be having the time of their life laughing at the pet hamster at the back of the room.

Frodo looked appalled by their behavior towards the poor animal, but since they weren’t doing anything particularly mean, he just turned away and settled on the reading corner. There was a red-headed boy flipping through an illustrated book of bears. This one seemed like a nice enough lad, horrible knitted sweater aside.

 

At the teacher’s desk in the far corner of the room, Mister Elrond was trying to assure Bilbo that Frodo was in capable hands. But he had been too engrossed listing all their achievements and accreditations, unaware that his audience was fighting a battle inside his own head.

It was not his fault that he was easily distracted. The honey-curled man had been feeling very anxious the moment he learned he would be a legal guardian. And today would be the first day he left the child’s side for longer than an hour. Everyday had been a struggle for both of them, each trying to fill in the void left behind by the sudden death of Primula and Drogo.

Needless to say, he was reluctant to leave, and hearing all the acclaims of Elrond only served to remind him of how crucial this time is for Frodo. So many things could go wrong, and it hadn’t even been a month since Frodo’s parents died. He knew that whatever damage that had left Frodo clinging onto him in the past weeks wouldn’t be reversed by mere hoping.

But he would soon have to leave if he didn’t want to be late for his meeting. There is only so much he can protect him from, and he cannot heal Frodo with a snap of his fingers, though it doesn’t stop him from wishing he could. The only thing he can give him now is his support and a shoulder to cry on. This much he can do for his nephew.

One last time, green eyes surveyed the rest of the class suspiciously as if gauging any threats. Finding none -except for the laughing duo at the back, who were more trouble than threat, really- he finally steeled his resolve and turned to chattering man, cutting him off politely with a ‘Good Morning’ and walking towards the door.

He sincerely hoped that school would lighten his nephew’s mood. He’d even pray that he becomes friends with ‘F’ and ‘K’ if only to share their exuberance. Subsequently, he hoped that the two didn’t actually laugh at every single thing that looked small, soft and chubby.

 

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                Recess had been his favorite time, mostly because he and Sam got to share it with Merry and Pippin from a different class. It was the best time to play in the sandbox about dragon-slaying adventures. Missus Cotton always had a good story to tell them, and she did voices almost as well as Bilbo. It was never boring nor complicated.

How he wished it’s the same way now.

“Why do you have grass in your bag?” Ori, the red-head, asked. He appeared to be genuinely confused with the contents of his lunch box.

“You mean the lettuce? It’s my food.” He paused and saw the sweet face scrunch up some more. “I also have carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes and apples.” The curly haired boy didn’t mention the walnuts. He liked them very much, and wasn’t too keen on sharing. Yet. It was his comfort food, after all.

“Are you a rabbit, Frodo?” Kili, the one with the ‘K’-shirt questioned cautiously. The brunette had heard of people cursed into animals and needed kisses to turn back. Perhaps that’s why Frodo had longer ears than them.

“Frodo can’t be a rabbit! If anything, he’s a guinea pig.” Fili, who wore the ‘F’-shirt and was actually a year ahead of them, remarked at his brother. He always waited for the morning bell in their classroom with Kili. Plotting heinous pranks, no doubt.

Speaking of heinous, their conversion was headed towards a bad direction, and was already getting off-topic. Or maybe that was a good thing, and they would all forget about his lunch and mind their own businesses. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining himself anyway.

But he honestly hoped that they didn’t think he was some kind of a fat pet.

“Oh! If you like, I could share my sandwich with you. It’s chicken!” Ori pulled out his snack and offered it to Frodo, who only stared at it.

Not to be outdone, Kili also shoved a half-eaten slice of pizza at his general direction. He had to duck quickly, narrowly avoiding being slapped in the face by the greasy pie. Fili, on his part, only stopped eating his burger and squinted at it, then regarded him with a calculating look.

“No, no, NO!” Frodo screamed in frustration. “I can’t eat that!”

All his new friends looked hurt by his outburst. Well, there’s no going back now.

 “I don’t eat meat.” His voice was so quiet, but they heard him anyway.

                This time, they looked at him in abject horror. Fili almost spit out the half-chewed burger in his mouth.

“WHAT?!—“

“No _meat?_ How can they-”

“What do you _eat_ -”

“Are you being _punished_ -”

“STOP! Enough!!” he halted them before Mister Elrond comes to their table. It was embarrassing enough that he had to explain his food choices, he didn’t want the adults to come check on him too. He was a big boy, thank you very much! “I’m Vegan. I don’t eat meat.”

Frodo forked a lettuce from his box and waved it for the boys to see, taking another one and quickly putting it in his mouth. It seemed ridiculous to him; there was no special way to eat a vegetable and he didn’t really need to show them _how_ to eat it. But here he was, trying to make Fili, Kili and Ori imitate him. But no such luck.

It was certainly easier in the Shire, where every child learned to eat vegetables as soon as they are able to eat solid food. Bilbo warned him about this, too. Erebor was very different, and people are not keen on eating green things. Children, most especially, can be very stubborn about it.

But he decided that if he was going to make friends, they’d have to accept him for himself- _grass-eating_ included! Of course, the three boys were just going to be difficult.

Kili looked daunted by the leaf, clearly undecided on what he should do. A quick glance at his brother showed that he was no better off than himself. They were in a right pickle this time. The usually impulsive child could only stare helplessly at his new friend, alarmed by the red color of his face. He didn’t want to be mean to him, because Mama always said that it’s not nice to make others cry, and Frodo already looked like he was about to.

But before anyone could even say anything, a massive shadow loomed over them.

A giant boy stood before them, and instantly, the temperature dropped. He was not fat, per se, but compact and not at all soft looking. His hair was closely shaved except for a tuft of dirty blond hair at the front. But it was his menacing scowl that had frozen the four boys in their seats.

He glared at the leaf speared by a shaking fork, then to the lunch box with all the lettuce. All breath left Frodo’s lungs when the glare was suddenly directed at him. This was turning out to be the worst recess in his short history of seven-and-a-half years. But he hoped he would live to experience more -recess that is, not pee-inducing situation.

A broad hand shot out and grabbed his lunch box from the table, and it was enough for Fili to snap out of his stupor. The golden haired boy immediately leapt into action and snatched the other end of the box, turning it into a tug-of-war.

“Bolg!! Let go!” he yelled. Ori stood behind him and grasped his waist to support him.

“That’s Frodo’s lunch, you big lug!”

                Despite their joint effort, Bolg -as Fili had called him- managed to shake them off and, to Frodo’s shock, started eating his food. He was too stunned to even notice that Mister Elrond was being dragged over to them, Kili already yelling and waving his arms as the teacher tried to calm him down.

                The exasperated adult found Fili and Ori hollering any and every word under the sun at an eating Bolg, who was _still_ glaring at Frodo. And Frodo honestly had enough of trying to understand everything.

It was utter chaos.

But for the first time since the funeral, a smile lit up Frodo’s face.


	2. To Meet a Durin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bookstore flirtings, little big man, and new beginnings.

Bilbo liked to think of himself as a practical sort. He kept to his schedule, made his social calls dutifully, and didn’t bother people needlessly. Years of defending himself against gossiping relations had taught him to always be mindful of himself around the public eye, but being here in Erebor had given him a sense of freedom he hadn’t had in –well, forever, really. It was incredibly refreshing to just be yourself and not mind every last bit of decorum, although he should have really kept a bit on himself instead of shamelessly flirting with a stranger.

He had no illusions about love, and even less about this tall, dark and definitely handsome man’s interest lying on him, because, quite obviously, it doesn’t. There was nothing about his short and chubby self that would attract such a person to him. The other man was most probably used to such attention and was only humoring him.

But Bilbo hadn’t experienced this kind of elation in a long while, and it felt nice to have someone pay attention to him. He will be damned if he did not grab on to this once in a lifetime opportunity. Even if he’s clearly too flustered to properly flirt. Or say anything intelligible.

“So you’re staying here long?” the voice was gravely deep, and there was a brief moment of silence as Bilbo tried not to swoon. It was utterly unfair how perfect this man seemed.

“U-uhm. Oh. _Oh!_ Yes, yes.” Not a few seconds into the conversation and the blonde was already having a hard time concentrating on forming words. When did it get so hot in Galdalf’s store? _Nope, best not to say anything, lest I blurt out something inappropriate. And stop staring at those lips!_

His cheeks burned red, as the taller man leaned into him, the charming grin further disrupting all of his brain activity at the moment.There was something familiar in that smile, although he couldn’t place it, far too busy ogling at its owner at the moment.

“Well, then you have to let me show you the best drinking pubs around!” cried a new voice from behind them.

Startled, Bilbo’s heart jumped to his throat at the same time he did from the floor. It took a few seconds to regain his bearings, but almost instantly, he felt like fainting. In his surprise, he had actually leapt into a pair of well-muscled arms that had pulled him to an equally toned chest. All thoughts fled him as he lifted his gaze up to the strikingly blue eyes. _Really, utterly unfair._

 

“Hey, knock it off, Durin!”  The one introduced earlier as Bifur scolded disapprovingly. “Bilbo only just got into town. Give him a chance to get to know normal people first.”

 “Sorry, it was my fault. I startled him into his arms.” Another man with a strange hat stroked his mustache suggestively, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m Bofur, cousin of Bifur, if you can’t tell by our names.” He was clearly amused, but by what, Bilbo did not want to ask. He already had a pretty clear idea anyway, and he wasn’t eager to be subjected to even more teasing.

A clearing of the throat had Bilbo finally jerking away from Durin _._

His appalling manners aside, when someone as gorgeous as this man starts eying you up and down, you’d be lucky not to just melt on the spot. Let alone actually remember anything.

 “At least let him settle down first.”Gandalf stood leaning on the marble counter. He shared a glance with Dori, who was peering at them from his spot at the register, an eyebrow raised high to his graying hairline.

“S-s-sorry!!! I’ll just-uhm..”

Stammering was not good. In fact it was the very opposite if it. The flirting and the insinuations were all fun when it was just the two of them, nevermind the fact that it was only his brain that had excluded everyone else from his vision, and not them actually leaving the room.

But having all the people in the store joining in would be too much for his still sensitive nerves to bear.

The meeting in the morning went south the moment he entered the room, which was why he wanted to comfort himself in Gandalf’s café-slash-bookstore. If he had known he was meeting this dark-haired, blue-eyed _Durin_ he wouldn’t have worn his most snuggly-albeit-hideous cardigan. Or maybe at least brushed his hair better.

But before he could literally run away from embarrassment, Durin grabs hold of him and steers him aside, shielding him from the rest. A stern glare was directed at the other men, a clear command for them to mind their own business. Or so what Bilbo thought it conveyed, as they tried, albeit failed, to look disinterested at their exchange.

“Hey, now. Are you okay?” Durin asked, concern dripping from the softly spoken question. It was a relief to know that he was also such a gentleman. Did Bilbo already mention he’s perfect?

“Yes. Just a bit of a jet lag is all. Still getting used to everything here.”

The taller man observed him critically, those wonderful eyes boring into him. He wouldn't mind staring into them for hours. Or days. Forever may still be too short, if he was being honest.

“If you’re sure.” There was hesitance in the voice, as if he’s not entirely convinced. But Bilbo was prideful, even if, at the moment, his stomach was being eaten by butterflies.

“Of course, mister Durin.” He huffs, not amused at being treated like a child.  But Durin only smiled mischievously at him.

“Mister Durin is all well and good, but I’d like you to call me by my name. Over the phone, if you’d like.”

There was the flirting again.

Durin produced a card and a pen from his blazer, and wrote something at the back before handing it to Bilbo. He immediately pocketed it, not wanting to hyperventilate in case he found his writing sexy too.

“Yes, yes. It was nice meeting you all, but I have to- uhm, go. Now.” The shorter man spun around, too abruptly it seemed, as he noticed everyone else turn nervously at different directions. Obviously, they had been eavesdropping.

“Goodbye!” he stammers out and dashed to the exit, sure that they were all laughing at his retreating back. Not that he minded. _At least I got to meet a sweet hunk of eye candy. And yes, that is a creepy thought at my age._

_Or not._

 

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Of all the scenarios he had of this moment, Frodo hurtling into his arms and waving a pink slip was not one of them. But the boy’s undeniably jubilant smile made his chest warm up with gladness and relief. If those bright eyes could sparkle more, he’d blind his dear old uncle.

“Uncle Bilbo, guess what, guess what?!” the small bundle of energy just radiated with so much glee that the older man felt a little skeptical.  There was that thing about Sparta and a gift horse, right?

“I made friends with Fee, Kee, and Ori!”  the child continued innocently, and Bilbo couldn’t even hide his wince, knowing Fee and Kee were the laughing brothers at the pet area. It can only be them. _I should be more careful of what I wish for._

“Oh, and Mister Elrond wants to see you tomorrow.”

That made alarms go off in the curly-blonde’s head. Of course he was already expecting that from seeing the pink slip of paper, but he had hoped it was just a trick of his worn mind. Frodo was never a trouble-maker, even in Hobbiton.

“Frodo,” he set his nephew down to look him in his eyes. “do you want to tell me what happened?”

To his credit, the boy only paused for a second before launching into his tale.

“I was telling my friends that I don’t eat meat. But then this other boy suddenly took my lunch and ate it-“

“WHAT?!” Bilbo screeched in horror. It was a manly screech. “Did this kid hurt you? Why would he take your lunch? There’s nothing there but vegetables! Is he bullying you?” he started ranting, and instinctively checked Frodo for bruises, only to have his hands swatted away.

“He didn’t hurt anyone!” Frodo gave him one of his serious ‘Baggins’ faces, probably miffed at being interrupted. “Well, Fee and Ori tried to take my lunch box back but he was too big for them and they were shorter than him, so Kili got Mister Elrond to sort it out. In the end, Bolg patted my head when he gave back my lunch box, and had to be taken back inside for a Time Out.”

“He still should’ve apologized to you! Was even a simple ‘sorry’ too hard for him?” Bilbo sniffed unimpressed, while his charge only fidgeted and shuffled his feet.

“But I don’t think he can speak.” He paused, this time tearing his gaze away from his uncle. “Ori says he lost his mum last year, and hasn’t talked to anyone after.”

The reply was made quietly, and Bilbo watched as Frodo’s eyes reflexively searched for his parents’ photo by the fireplace. That kind of sadness on such a young face made whatever snapping remarks he had die in his mouth. Children should be laughing and playing happily with their friends, not wallowing miserably in silence.  

An uncomfortable weight settled in his stomach as he remembered the many tears he had cried in the past for his own parents. But he didn’t have to reminisce for too long before he was once again surprised by Frodo.

“I want to be his friend!” The small boy suddenly announced without preamble, crossing his arms and already working his wee mind for ways to make that happen.

“But he took your lunch away. Why would you want to be friends with him?” Bilbo asked bewildered, recovering from his shock, but failing to follow his nephew’s logic. If it were him at that age, he would’ve just stayed as far away as possible from the bully. Cowardly it may be, but it will save his lunch without the undoubtedly painful confrontations, both physically and emotionally.

This time, Frodo squint his eyes quizzically at him, looking quite confused by the question.

“Because he must be lonely.” He answered simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And perhaps, to a child’s mind, there really is no better reason than that.

Bilbo breathes out a sigh of relief, sending a thankful prayer to his late cousin and his wife for their excellent parenting. He shouldn’t have doubted in Frodo’s strength and golden heart. Even in his own grief, he sees the best in people and tries to help them.

He wished fervently that his kindness stays with him forever, even when he grows up. God only knows the world needs more people like him.

 

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With all the excitement the day had brought, it wasn’t until he was lying in his bed that he remembered the handsome Mister Durin from the shop.  He cursed himself, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks for the umpteenth time.

Bilbo got up and picked up the card from his drawer, examining it. There was a name and a cellphone number printed on the front. Flipping it, he found the note at the back scribbled in a messy hand writing.

‘I’m not done flirting yet.’ It read, and it made his heart flutter thinking about the man’s voice if he had actually said it.

 

_Take the risk. You only live your life once._

That had been his mother’s advice for him right before he went off to college to pursue his dream of becoming a writer, despite all his relatives’ objections. And even with all the challenges life has thrown at him, remembering her words always gave him the courage to take every impossible leaps of faith.

He wasn’t about to let her down now.

Suddenly, his fingers were flying across his keypads and hitting send before his brain could even catch up.

‘Good evening. This is Bilbo, from the shop earlier. Thanks for the card, but I’m sure you have better things to do than entertain the new residents. Anyway, ring me up when you want to have drinks with me.’

Polite. Succinct. Not at all self-depreciating. Right.

His phone rang in his hands as he was staring at his own message, but the name blaring from the screen made him want to drop it. He let his thumb hover over the green button, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, he badly wants to hear that voice again. But on the other, it might not be wise to pursue a relationship-slash-companionship-slash-something that will surely only end up with him pining after the man.

_Who am I kidding? Not like this is going to happen to me again. Ever. Might as well enjoy the ride._

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he pushed the answer button and held the phone up his ear.

“I said I wasn’t done, Bilbo.” The voice at the other end made him shiver with delight.

His smile widened, and surprisingly, his heart settled comfortably in the cavity of his chest, instead of going crazy. The butterflies were still there in his stomach, but for the first time since moving to Erebor, it felt like home.

He took on a playful tone as he replied brazenly, “And a ‘Good evening’ to you too, Frerin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I shamelessly took Martin and Amanda's phone flirting conversation. hahaha. They're the number one straight couple that I really love. If anyone is offended, I'm still not sorry. It was actually the very moment that made me realize that I liked them, and I've always wanted to write up that scene, but it never worked out for my other stories. 
> 
> please tell me how you all feel about it. good? bad? don't care?  
> XD


	3. To Meet More Durins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak. Healing. and of Caterpillars.

Thorin was annoyed. Not only does he have to go to school to talk to Mister Elrond(a suspiciously tall and willowy man, because no one should be that _tall_ ), but he will also be meeting with his least favorite people. Azog, father of Bolg, the kid who had been bullying the new kid. And the aforementioned new kid and his uncle. Who were _Vegan_ , if his nephews’ stories were to be believed.

They were rather enthusiastic about relaying all the events that took place regarding their newfound friend. Not even caring how deranged they sounded.

 

Of all the days for his sister to get her monthly cramps, it just had to be today. Or maybe she was just lazy. He can’t really fault her since she’s called to school most days of the week. This was all really a very normal occurrence by now. But regardless of the reason, he wouldn’t have been able to say no. She was not a woman to cross-moon cycle or not.

His only comfort was that Dori will also be there, and being with family, no matter how distant, would make it seem better. That, and with Dori’s strength, it will give him much entertainment if the stocky man punches Azog. It was a shame he’s as mild-mannered as little Ori, his first cousin once removed.

 

Then there’s the fact that Frerin decided to carpool with him. He had nothing against his younger brother, but the least the brat could do is not ignore him instead of typing away on his phone with Eru-knows-who. Flirting, no doubt. If the way his lips quirked in an unconscious smile, and the light blush dusting his cheeks were any indication.

He watched sullenly from the driver's seat, as he snuck a glance at his brother from time to time. Not that he wasn’t happy that Frerin was out in the market again. Mahal knows how unkind the past year had been to him.

One of the reasons why Thorin dislike Vegans, aside from the fact that he owns the _best_ Barbeque and Grill restaurant in town, was because of a past transgression of a certain platinum-blonde _weed-eater_ who had broken and torn his dearest little brother’s heart. Of course, he retaliated by punching the pointy git in his nose. That landed him a night in jail, but it was worth it, seeing the normally pompous man with a black eye coloring his face.

He allowed the little victory, until Dis nearly went hysterical when she found out, and even his multitude of cousins and extended family were in an uproar. All of them had more creative ideas on how to get revenge, that it made his stunt seem petty in comparison. He was most displeased.

Now, the eldest Durin had got it into his head that they are not only bad for his business, but also for his family’s well-being.

 

He was interrupted mid-rant when he heard Frerin’s deep laugh, a sound that had been becoming more and more frequent as of late.

While Thorin does worry for him, he couldn’t stop the fond smile breaking his scowl. His personal vendetta aside, the younger man looks really good in love. All the lines etched by years of hardships seem to disappear whenever he takes a fancy of someone. Even with Thranduil, there was a time when he had been so happy that Thorin was willing to hold his tongue when the blonde insulted his famous pork barbeque ribs three Thanksgivings ago.

His thoughts turned sour again, as he remembered the vile man again.

“Cheer up, dude. At least Dori will also be there.” Frerin saw him as his face pinched into another scowl, oblivious to his true musings.

The older man doesn’t comment, letting his brother get back to his texting. How _that_ relationship lasted five years was beyond him. All he knows now is that the next person to break Frerin's heart would get all their bones broken.

 

The car stopped as it rounded the school’s block. Frerin got out of the car and waved at the other man, giving him a bright smile.

“Good luck with Elrond! And don’t scare the children too much.” He chirped happily, before bouncing away towards the bus stop.

“Look both ways before crossing the street!” Thorin yelled after him as younger man sidestepped an oncoming car, still looking at his phone listlessly.

Honestly. It’s like everyone around him were children. They’d send him to an early grave at this rate.

 

Still grumbling to himself, he parked his car and got out. It took all of his self-restraint not to slam the door as he stared at the multitude of children screaming and running around. Kids had never been his forte. And with the exception of Fili and Kili, all of them  would always run scared whenever he was within five feet of them. And, no matter what his sister says, it was not his fault. Although, it does come in handy during times like these, when the children would part like the red sea to avoid him as he walked to the teacher’s office.

But sure enough, there’s always one or two of the little tykes who never got the memo. One of them came barreling to his knees. Thorin’s scowl darkened as the small curly-haired boy looked up at him with tears in his eyes. Children were bad enough, but give him a crying child, and it’s a recipe for disaster. Nothing in his appearance says ‘comforting’ in any way. In fact, he’d had children scream bloody murder when he so much as glance at them.

 

“Frodo!” a shrill voice shouted, and the child clutched harder at his pants. Thorin vaguely recalled something familiar about the name, but those thoughts were cut short when he looked up and saw an angelic man weaving his way towards him.

And, oh, how perfect he looked.

Shiny, honey curls framed his plump face. Eyes of green and gold sparkled like the most precious jewels. And that sweet, tinkling voice that sent a fire straight down his-

"I'm so sorry, Mister!" The vision said to him, and with all the eloquence he had acquired in the past thirty-seven years, Thorin elegantly replied with a noise that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a snort.

 _Please, strike me down now._ He silently prayed to whatever deity was listening to him, but alas, nothing of the sort happened.

To his relief, the shorter man didn't seem offended but, rather, laughed at his response, before pulling the small leech away from his knees.

"I'm really sorry. This little monster wouldn't change his shirt, even though he already spilled his chocolate milk on it." the shorter male chuckled. Thorin was already of average height, but this man was easily a foot shorter than him.

"But it's my favorite shirt, Uncle!" the little brunette whined, glancing down at the brown stain. It was dark, and covered most of the character printed on the front. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd say it was that dwarf prince from the kid's show Fili and Kili were so fond of.

Thorin was just about excuse himself, because in no way was he going to get in between a spat, especially with a _kid_ , when those huge puppy eyes looked up at his blue ones, as if seeking help from him.

 _Crap._ His mind helpfully supplied, as the child's bottom lip began to wobble again.

Thorin tried to make a dash for it, but the piercing gaze of the handsome stranger pinned him where he stood. And damn if those fiery eyes didn't stir something warm in his carefully guarded heart.

_Double crap._

Only his years of babysitting the rambunctious children of his sister saved him from completely making an arse of himself.

"If you leave the chocolate on your shirt, you won't be able to see Mr. Oakenshield." he said slowly.

Both adults waited with baited breath as the curly-haired child looked at his shirt again.

"Uncle! you have to clean it now!!" In a flurry of movement, he removed the dirtied cloth and pressed it into the golden haired man's hands.

"Okay, okay. Hold on, monkey!"

"Not a monkey!" the boy retorted, tugging his uncle towards the lavatory.

In truth, Thorin was a little disappointed by the short meeting, but just as he was about to skulk away and find his own nephews, the other man turned back to him.

"Thank you for that, mister...?" the blonde offers his unoccupied hand shyly.

"Thorin." He supplied quickly, "Thorin Durin." The large man saw the other's eyes widen a bit, and flushed.

"Oh.. I'm Bilbo Baggins."

They shook hands, and Bilbo gave him a considering look.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Frerin, are you?"

"He's my younger brother." The older Durin narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

"Well, I seem to have acquired a type." Bilbo muttered under his breath that Thorin barely caught it, but just as he was about to ask, he was interrupted by Frodo.

"Uncle, come on! You have to clean my shirt NOW!!" he tugged again at his uncle, before he snatched his shirt and ran to the sinks.

"Frodo!" Bilbo scolded, but his words fell on deaf ears as the child had already gone off. "It was nice meeting you! See you around." He waved hastily at Thorin, and rushed after his nephew.

 

The dark-haired restaurateur really wasn't expecting to see him so soon, and he was a little taken aback when he found the short man as he herded his own nephews inside the principal's office.

"Frodo!" both children yelled, and he finally connected the dots.

 

Frodo.

Baggins.

_Vegan._

 

The rest of the meeting couldn’t have gone any slower for him.

 

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Bolg was not a very bright kid by anyone's standards. He knew he's a bit slow with spelling and numbers, and he's always had this confused look on his face that made him look angry. But really, he isn't. He liked to do things in his own pace, and he doesn't take too kindly on being hurried. There may be things he doesn't understand right away, but he found that if he waited long enough, he'd get the answers eventually.

That's what his mom had always told him. Being big and stocky and his face pulled in a perpetual frown like his father's, many kids were afraid of him.

_"If you are patient, your  butterfly will come to you on its own."_

He's been waiting around for too long, and he doesn't really know what butterflies had got anything to do with friends, but his mother is wise.

 _Was_ wise.

Even if she couldn't sing him lullabies or read him stories anymore, he knew she's watching over him. His father said so, and he's wise too.

So he waited, and waited, until he realized that maybe his butterfly was still a caterpillar. That's why it was taking him so long. He learned that in one of his picture books. Before they were butterflies, they were caterpillars, and they ate and ate lots of leaves.

But no one in his class likes to eat green things. So his caterpillar must be somewhere else, he thought.

 

When he saw Frodo, he instantly knew he was his caterpillar. The smaller child was sweet looking and bright, he could outshine the sun. He made him so happy just by looking at him.

_And he eats leaves._

But maybe eating his food wasn't the best way to make friends with him. As the older boy watched Frodo trying to feed his friends those green vegetables, an idea struck him. Maybe if _he_ ate enough greens, he could become a butterfly like Frodo too, and they'd be friends forever.

And maybe they could've been friends, if only he had asked permission to share in his food first.

 

When he showed his father the pink paper, Bolg knew he was in trouble. Slow as he may be, he knew when he'd done something wrong, and seeing Frodo close to tears was _very_ wrong. But the tall, light-skinned man only looked down at his son sadly.

That afternoon, they went to his mother's grave and the child watched his father pat the smooth stone of the epitaph, tracing the engravings. His mum had a way of making Daddy smile even when he's really tired. She made his favorite food, even though his dad was the better cook, just because she wanted to. And when she smiled, all his worries would melt away, like the wax candles on her grave.

She was his Daddy's butterfly.

Bolg knew that because he'd called her that many times before. And he can't help but think that his father was incredibly lonely, being left behind. As sad as he is losing his mum, he can't imagine losing his butterfly.

One has to wait a long time to find his butterfly, so when they are found, they have to be loved and cared for.

The stout boy resolved, then and there, that the next time he saw Frodo, he'd make it right.

 

At the principal's office, he waited as everyone was gathered. Bolg didn't pay any attention to the adults talking in the background, his eyes trained only at the dark-curled boy. He wanted to go to Frodo the moment he entered but was held back by his father and Mister Elrond.

Ori, the little red-head was talking with Frodo, although they would glance his way from time to time. When Fili and Kili came in the room and started hugging him and playing with him too, he looked so pleased, that it made something in Bolg's chest squeeze tightly.

He wanted to be the one to make him happy too.

So he steeled his nerves and twisted out of his father's grasp. There was a bit of a commotion as the older kid ran to Frodo, and although the others were quick to shield him from Bolg, the smallest child stepped out of their protection and smiled at him.

With shaking hands, he carefully dug a slightly scrunched flower from his pocket and held it out to him. Light blue eyes widened as he stared at the offering, and his smile brightened when he took it.

Then he held Bolg's hand and led him to his circle of friends. Without warning, the other children were instantly onto him, babbling and laughing away, talking on top of one another's voice, asking question on what's his favorite color, favorite food, favorite superheroes and looking at him expectantly as if he hadn't fought with them just yesterday.

"This is Fili, Kili and Ori." The curly boy introduced them, seeing the lost expression on his face. "And I'm Frodo."

There was a tense moment as he only continued to stare at them, and perhaps it would've gone on for the rest of the afternoon, if it hadn't been for little Ori.

"Would you like to be friends with us?" the red-head asked nervously, taking his cue from their bold, new friend, showing that small as they may be, they certainly didn't lack courage.

And for the first time, after losing his mother, Bolg finally spoke.

"Yes. "

 

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"Frodo’s a rabbit!"

"No, a guinea pig!"

"No, he’s vegan." Dis told her sons with practiced patience as she put a steaming bowl of casserole on the table. Durin family dinners had always been full of pointless and confusing conversations. His two brothers were the running champion at that, but her sons were coming in a close second.

"They’re from the shire. Hobbiton to be more specific." Frerin laughed at his nephews silliness. He scooped a large helping of his sister's casserole, knowing full well that it would definitely taste great. Both of his siblings had the gift of making food with anything, while he, on the other hand, can make everything become inedible.

"Oh! Yes, most people there are growers. They export a lot of the agricultural food here to Erebor too. And they have the best tomatoes." Dis gushed, looking forlornly at her plate.

"I’ve heard that the wealthier a family, the less meat they eat.” Frerin thought aloud.

 Somehow, Thorin doubted that was true.

"If that’s so, then the Bagginses are probably incredibly rich." He hurramps unhappily. Even if he doesn’t believe it, the idea still irritated him. What would people who had never worked a day in their life know about the hardships in Erebor.

"They are. But not as well wealthy as the Tooks. They’re _the_ major supplier."

"But why don’t they eat meat?" Fili pipes in.

Kili gave a loud gasp, almost choking on his chicken.

"Does that mean Frodo hasn’t had BACON??"

"Or barbeque?" his brother caught on.

"Or meat pie?"

"Or burgers?"

"Or-"

"No, he probably hasn’t. Or his uncle for that matter." Dis interrupts them before they could go on all night.

At the mention of the older Baggins, Frerin's face lit up, and his eyes immediately sought out Thorin's.

"Ooohhhh… someone you can’t win over with your cooking prowess. Now that is a challenge!" He smirked.

"I can win _anyone_ with my cooking. I don't _only_ cook meat!" defended Thorin, "Besides, why would I try to win them over? And more importantly, when did you _meet_ him? Were you going around every Vegan restaurant and hunting down guys, again?"

Because, really, that had already happened. Frerin's way of coping with Thranduil and their epic break-up was to pick up people from places they had frequented together. Thankfully, it had stopped three months ago, but one can never be too careful.

The younger Durin shot his brother a baleful look. "We met at Gandalf's store during lunch the other day." He sniffed, "And, he's cute, isn't he?"

"Yeah, Frodo’s pretty cute." Kili says, unaware of who the adults were talking about by now, too distracted by his meal.

Everyone at the table stared at him, Fili the most bewildered of them all.

 Could this be Kili's very first crush? At the wee age of seven?

"I was talking about Bilbo." Frerin gave Thorin a pointed look after he recovered from his shock.

“Okay, fine, he is." Thorin conceded, rolling his eyes, "But what’s that got to do with me? You’re the one who likes him."

“You just don’t want to challenge me to some brotherly competition because you know you’d lose."

 “Yeah right. You’ve obviously hit your head this morning if you think anyone would like you better than me.” He grumbled, although he couldn't help but find some truth in that statement. Frerin was infinitely more approachable than him. But he'd rather endure Azog for another day than admit _that_ to anyone. No need to inflate his brother's already huge ego.

“That’s because I’m amazing. And charming. And incredible handsome.”

The older man snorted at the last one, his irritation making him forget his insecurities.

“And obviously delusional. I’m way better than you, if that’s all you’ve got. If I were to _woo_ him, he’d swoon so hard, he’d be in a coma for a week.”

“Fine! Prove it!”

“Wha--? What are you-"

“The one Bilbo chooses at the end of the month is the winner. Loser will be stuck with babysitting duty for a year.” Frerin finished.

“I don’t want to-, wait, a year?? That’s unfair!”

“Fine then, nine months.”

“One!”

“Six."

“Two."

"Five months"

"Two and a half?"

"Four months, that’s final! Or are you scared you’d lose?"

"Fine! Deal!" The oldest Durin grounded out, and immediately wanted to take back his words at the sight of his brother.

Frerins gave him a slow grin, his eyes twinkling with undeniable mischief. He turned to Dis, only to find her shaking her head and trying to control her mirth. All the while, the warning bells rang mercilessly in his head.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took sooooo long. I already finished this last Tuesday, but I wasn't very happy with it, and when I tried to edit it, Bolg decided to get all cute on me. They are trying to take over my life!!
> 
> Please tell me what you think! :D


	4. Rumors and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama. a secret revealed...or was it?

Ori liked Dori very much. His cousin was really smart and made many delicious food, and although he's younger than his mum, Dori already had some graying hair amongst the auburn. He thinks it's interesting and can't wait until he gets them.

He liked Nori too, because he taught him neat tricks and many adult words, but that's just a secret between them! He also had the same color of hair as his mum and him. But Ori doesn't mind that there's no silver in them.

They're a real family of red-heads (like the brilliant color of his firetruck), although his other cousins from his father's side used to tease them that they have quite a temper because of the color of their hair.

_It gets them into all sorts of trouble._

Little Ori fervently hope that's not true.

Dori can be very scary when he's mad, and he once threw a guy out of the house like he was nothing but a sack of potatoes. While that was funny, he also doesn't give desserts when he's too busy ranting at one or some other thing that made him angry. One has to tread carefully whenever he's around because he's _too fussy for his own good and easily gets offended._ Ori doesn't know what those words meant but he didn't want to get it if it makes his kind cousin all red in the face and huffy.

Nori, on the other hand, liked getting people riled up.

The younger Rison enjoyed teasing his older brother about mundane things- flowery teacups, doilies on the table, _yucky_ tea-, and they usually end up yelling at each other. What's admirable is Dori's amazing restraint not to strangle him even when the younger man flicks the lacy cloth at him.

Sometimes, he'd see Nori come through the window, like a thief in the night, with scrapes and bruises, and the man would say it was because some people couldn't take his jokes. But Ori knew Nori can be a little mean at times, so it was really all his fault if he got into trouble. His cousin's face would become red from laughing so much.

 

His mum and dad used to kiss a lot, and he'd giggle every time he caught them. The small child would watch her face burn crimson like her hair, while his father laughed at his adorable wife. But when he left them, Ori didn't like the red rimming her eyes as she announced they're moving in with the Risons.

 

He knew his mum had to travel to many faraway places for her work. She would send him letters with pictures and call him every night. She'd be gone for few weeks at a time and he'd wait eagerly for her return, counting down the days with his little calendar the way she taught him. When she comes back, she'd have bags full of sweets and presents for him, and his nights would be spent listening to tales of her adventures. But he still wished she didn't have to work so much. And she could spend all her days with him wrapped in her arms, red hair smelling of mint and flowers and _home_.

 

Oril liked living with his Rison cousins. They can be really fun to be with, when he's not worried Dori will yell himself hoarse, or Nori will get taken away for pulling too many pranks. They were jovial folks, quick to smile and give everyone around them a helping hand. Their house may be smaller than the one he's used to, but it was definitely better.

And away from his father's family, he never had to worry about his other cousins' constant teasing.

If he was being very honest, he doesn't want to ever go back. Everyone was mean to him, and got him into messes and blamed for things he didn't do. And, yes, he did fight with them a few times, his face an angry crimson as he yelled, but only because they tried to take his mum's locket from him.

 

_It's because of all that red hair. The color makes everyone go mad._

 

Dori and Nori has red hair, and they aren't all that bad. They took them in, cared for them, and when his mum had to work, Dori tucked him in at night, and Nori would tell him stories. Ori doesn't want them to leave him. Or him to leave them.  

He didn't want to believe his mean cousins, but for Dori and Nori, he was willing to be a more cautious. Better safe than sorry, right? So he made sure that his hair didn't cause them any problem. All he had to do was make sure he doesn't go red.

And for a while, it was fine. He didn't yell or quarrel with other children, and everyone minded their own business. Even being friends with Fili and Kili didn't seem to cause any harm, although he did occasionally snap at them when they're being particularly difficult. Yet for the most part, all was good.

But  when Frodo's food was taken, he couldn't just sit idly by. He knew he had to do something.

 

He expected Dori to be angry at him and was waiting for his face to turn that nasty shade of red, because he's always been told not get into fights. But when the child recounted what happened, the older Rison blinked at him and did the most surprising thing. He laughed!

"You sure showed him!" Dori cried in between fits of giggles.

This confused Ori more.

"But fighting is _not right_." He felt silly, being the one to tell his older cousin that, as if he was the one lecturing him.

At this, Dori's laughter subsided and he looked at the small boy fondly. Ori fidgeted under his gaze.

"Aye, lad, it is. But sometimes, defending the people you love is more important than being right. As you've probably heard, us Risons have quite a temper."

"Because our hair is red?"

This sent Dori into another bout of laughter, his belly bouncing as he did, and maybe Ori would've joined in too if he knew why.

"Our red is the color of love. We think with our hearts, and we express ourselves passionately. Sometimes, people react the same way, and we end up arguing. But red means we feel very strongly about something. Do you understand?"

Ori had to think for a bit, because he can't seem to find the right words. He turned the thought over and in his little head, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at Dori with a grin of his own.

"Red means we care."

 

The conversation came back to him when Mister Durin, who always looked cool and scary, turned a shade of scarlet when Frodo's uncle accidentally brushed against him.

 

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In the morning, after he had slept peacefully, Bilbo woke up feeling more refreshed than he's ever been in a long time. The sun was glorious, the air was crisp, and his initial crush on Frerin had dissipated. He felt embarrassed, getting a crush like a lovestruck teenager on the hottest man he's ever seen. But in the cold light of day, his level-headedness had returned.

_It was inevitable that years of being alone, with only his cousin's family for company, had made him starved for attention, and  he'd cling onto the very first person to glance twice at him._

His scornful relatives had gossiped loudly enough, when he tried to lock himself away in his home.

Part of the reason he accepted Gandalf's invitation to stay in Erebor was to get away from them. He didn't want Frodo to grow up subjected to their blathering and thinly veiled accusations, any more than he wanted to put up with them. Many were scandalized at his decision, of course. Folks such as them had everything they could ever want within their prosperous country, and adventures were for frivolous people discontent with their lives.

Well, he can say with pride that he happily burned the bridges with those nosy relations of his.

Although there was the ever present _want_ to prove them wrong.

It didn't really help his case when _that_ first person turned out as handsome as Frerin. The man was absolutely  charming. There was no other word for it. He was flummoxed with how easy he wormed his way into his heart with just a smile.

_He's as warm as the sun._

It wasn't that hard to confuse his feelings from there.

But countless text messages and a dozen calls later, the short man was inclined to send a banner of 'I TOLD YOU SO!' in big bold letters to his relatives back in Hobbiton- one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins to be exact.

Bilbo could've kicked himself for being blind. It wasn't that he fancied Frerin, although the idea wasn't all far-fetched. He finally realized that what he missed was having people he could interact with the same ease as the younger Durin. To be open, comfortable and generally just be  himself- something he had only ever had with his parents and Prim and Drogo.

What he really missed was having a family.

What he really wanted  was a friend.

He found that Frerin and him had a lot of things in common, from hiking, old buildings to his taste in books, and by the end of the day, he was determined to be good friends with him. Romance was the farthest thing from his mind then, because although the taller man can be really sweet, he wasn't really looking for a relationship.

 _Not with someone whose essentially me, if not for the looks and atrocious culinary skills._ The writer laughed at his thoughts.

 

But the problem with his no-romance resolution presented itself when he met the older Durin, and this time, his feelings returned with more intensity.

Although the two men share the same dark locks and piercing blue eyes,  that was where their similarities ended. With Frerin, he felt peaceful and he instantly connected with the chatty man and his sunny disposition.

Thorin, on the other hand, was like a raging storm that took over his life, both dangerous and awe-inspiring at the same time. Those eyes the same color as his brother's held a different kind of fire, hotter and more smoldering. His voice was deeper, rumbling like thunder. But unlike the younger Durin, he seemed full of mystery and intrigue.

It made Bilbo want to peel off all his layers one by one and dissect him into clear, readable pieces, until he could see all of him.

_Wouldn't mind if it's not a metaphor, too._

 

Bilbo thought their first meeting went on fine. Thorin was as gentlemanly as can be, having just been ambushed by a flailing boy and his fussy uncle. But then at the principal's office, he could hardly look him in the eye, and when he did catch his gaze, he'd only regarded him coldly. The small man didn't understand what could've happened.

He first shot down the idea of asking Frerin, because he didn't want to seem too eager.

But he _really_ wanted to know.

 

In retrospect, knowing how much the brunette liked to mess with his older brother as siblings are wont to do, he should've expected the reply he got.

_"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it. ;)"_

The message didn't reassure him at all.

Nor did it answer any of his questions.

And now he was dreading meeting the older Durin again.

 

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Breakfast was never a silent affair in their house. Nor was lunch, dinner, and any other meal eaten there.

Right now, Thorin's problem was Bofur.

More specifically, Bofur and Frerin were scheming.

"So, this bird tells me of your bet." The hatted man gave him a toothy smile. "Bilbo is Gandalf’s godson, so I’d caution against it. But then, you Durins are stubborn as rocks, so I don’t think you’d listen.”

Pride was the only thing that kept the older Durin from begging him to stop his brother, but he didn't think Bofur would've done anything. He was always the gambling sort. Besides, there’s a small voice in Thorin's head wanting to spend time with the curly haired man. What better pretense than that? Because, if it was left up to him, he would've just sat in a corner and sulked in misery.

“ And mind you, he’s a real firecracker, that one. But cute as hell. I wouldn’t mind tapping me some of that.” Bofur chuckled, with a strange glint in his eyes.

The comment made Thorin tense up, feeling a protectiveness surge through him. But he held his tongue.

“Stop teasing him, Bof! We’ve got planning to do!"

“Isn’t it against the rules to enlist help?” The older man protested.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have anyone to ask. Dwalin sure isn’t making progress with Nori."

Thorin cringed at the mention of his oldest friend. Dwalin had only succeeded in making the red-headed private-eye hate him. It also didn’t help that the bulky policeman looked like he was glaring at the said man when he’s only gazing longingly at him. Perhaps there was a reason they were friends after all, familial obligations aside.

 

 

"Yer stupid." Dwalin grunted at his best friend, as Thorin struggled to place bottles of soda and juice in their cart.

They were appointed with the very glamorous duty of grocery-shopping for the upcoming Family Reunion. It was an annual dinner where all of their cousins and their families come up for a weekend, a custom they've continued for close to a hundred years. The older generations had jokingly called it Durin's day and it just stuck. But basically, it's a congregation of solidly built men with lumberjack physiques, guzzling beer, grilling burgers, and shouting at each other, while their wives exchange the most embarrassing stories about them. All in good fun, mind you.

It was their year to host the merry party, mainly because the family has grown so big over the years that only their estate had enough room to put everyone up, although some were still going to have to camp at their backyard.

"Frerin already has a head start making friends with him. And you're here pining away like a lovesick fool."

"Shut up! At least I didn't insulted him."

It was a low blow, and he felt guilty at once. He was there with Dwalin when he insulted Nori the very first time they met. That resulted in a night of drinking and crying(not that his friend will ever admit it).

" Not _yet._ I'm sure your amazing verbal skills would get to that soon."

 

Thorin scowled in response, not denying the statement because, in his case, it would actually be true. Instead, he looked out of the grocery store and, at the very same instant, spotted the adorable older Baggins across the street, chatting happily with a stand owner. Unfortunately, Dwalin saw him too.

The burly police grinned wickedly.

"Is that him? Well, he's really cute, I'll give you that. Not my type though."

"I know. Your taste lean towards stubborn, ginger detectives."

"What's he doing out and about, you suppose? Maybe he's meeting Frerin again.."

" _Or_ he's probably just making a grocery run. He has a _basket_ full of _leaves_.”

"Yeah, shame he's a vegan. Guess you can't bribe him with your cooking."

There was a distinctly evil glint in the bigger man's eyes as he watched his cousin's face flushed.

But before they could resume their banter, both men stopped when Bilbo bought a hotdog.

And ate it.

In three big bites.

 

Dwalin whistled.

"He sure can swallow his meat."

Thorin was torn between being indignant and hopeful.


	5. Pants on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candies. Cakes. And the truth?

Nori was confused. Scratch that, he was utterly bewildered by what was happening. Had it been someone else, he would've scoffed and turned up his nose. If it had been Dori, he might have done the exact opposite just to spite his brother.

But as is the case, he can’t find the humor in his situation.

He really should've just waited for Ori in the benches, like he was supposed to. But he wanted to see his cousin with his friends, knowing that he had been through a lot this past few years. H wanted to make sure that he was happy, and to confirm it with his own eyes, just for his own peace of mind.

Instead, a series of events that led him to his situation was all he got for his troubles.

 _I shouldn't have offered him candy._  He mentally slapped himself, as the small curly-haired child started tapping his feet disapprovingly.

“Have you thought about your actions, Mister?” He asked sternly in his little voice. Another child, bigger and mean looking, stood beside him, glaring at the sweet in Nori’s hand as if it had offended him. The red-head immediately shoved it in his pocket and raised his arms in a placating manner.

“Yes, yes, I have, and I am thankful to you for setting me right in my ways.” He embellished. The other kid growled at him menacingly, clearly not buying his bullshit.

“Stop, Bolg! He says he’s sorry.” Curly, as he'd taken to calling the cute kid, stopped the other from pouncing on him.

Nori finally knew why the kid looked familiar, he couldn't mistake Azog’s scowl anywhere else.

“Yes, I really am." he tried again. "May I know your name, little one?”

“I suppose.” The child hesitated. “I’m Frodo Baggins.”

“Oh! You’re the one who tried to feed Ori vegetables?”

“Well, I tried, but he doesn't like them.”

“I know. We’ve been trying to get him to eat them too, but he just screams at us. I’m his cousin, Nori Rison, at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mister Nori.” Frodo giggled, while Bolg glared harder at him.

The bigger kid stood closer to Frodo, eyeing the adult distrustfully. If he could look anymore like his father, Nori would've ran away scared for his life. The man could peel paint with his glare alone. But when a smaller hand rested on his arm, Bolg deflated and looked back at Frodo softly.

Well, that was certainly interesting.

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Bofur came into the Lonely Mountain Grill and Restaurant, grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess what?!" He cried jovially, interrupting some of the customers. Thorin gave him a baleful look.

"What is it?" Dis asked from her table, making her brother groan in displeasure.

"Why did you do that? It's most probably something pointless again. Like the laughing cats. Or babies crying. Why would you laugh at babies crying?"

"Wow. You're not even going to offer me anything? That's cold, dude."

"That depends on whether you're paying this time."

"See. Cold!" Bofur took a seat next to Dis, the two cackling like madmen.

"But seriously. You'll want to hear this one."

"Hear what?" Bombur came out to serve Dis her food, and to gossip with them.

"Great timing, Bom!"

"Get on with the story, if you want to tell it, Bofur." Thorin grunts impatiently.

"Fine, fine. Geez." The hatted man kept grinning. "So I just came from Gandalf's store-"

"-to mooch off food from Bifur, no doubt."

"-to _borrow_ some books." He gave Thorin a stink-eye. "Anyway. I came there, and Bifur was hauling some boxes into the store, while Dori was having a snack. He invited me over, so I chatted with him for a bit."

"Ha! See, you went there for the free food."

"Ignore my idiot of a brother, Bofur, and continue with your story." Dis said calmly, doing a perfect demonstration of her advice.

"As you wish, Madam. So I was there and we were eating cake.  Bifur was putting some boxes in the kitchen and passed by us, just as Dori dropped some of his cake on his shirt."

Everyone held their breath anticipating what had happen next.

"Dori swiped it with his finger and licked it. And Bifur completely missed the door by a foot!"

Dis and Bombur doubled up in laughter, earning more distressing looks from the few patron in the grill. Thorin only frowned at Bofur.

"So? We all know how smitten he is with Dori."

"Well, that's not all." He smirked. "Just as I was leaving, I smelled something burning in the kitchen. Sure enough, I find Bifur’s pants on fire!”

The two resumed laughing louder.

"I don't even know what happened. The smoke alarm was trilling by the time we got there, and I suspect that the fire has little to do with his red face."

"Oh, I wish I was there!"

"Yeah, me too."

“Hmp. Of course he was red, his pants were on fire.” The eldest Durin grumbled before walking away.

Bombur chuckled amiably, "Don't worry about Thorin. He's in a bit of sour mood this morning."

"Why? What happened?"

"Well, he was trying to cook some vegetables-"

"-But they always turn out _horrible_!" Dis finished.

"Is that for a certain curly-haired, vegan uncle of a certain curly-haired, vegan kid?" Bofur asked slyly.

"Yeah. He's been banging pots and pans since I came in. I've never seen him this frustrated. Though he could've just asked Frerin for some help on what else they like. You know, 'cause he dated a vegan once."

"I don't think that will help. Frerin made him bet to get him interested in Bilbo, but I think at this point it's not even necessary. He already seemed pretty taken by the him. All he has to do is stop being an arse and ask him out. Thorin's a decent bloke, and doesn't look half as bad."

"But my brother, like Bifur, is as blind as a bat when it comes to things like these. Have you ever wondered why he's thirty-eight with no love life, and burning perfectly good food? I swear this is the only time he's burned anything."

"Because he's an idiot?" The brothers Urville chorused.

"Exactly. Men of Erebor aren't known for their wits, afterall.” Dis concludes sagely.

 

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“How’s the book coming along?” Dori chatted with Bilbo, while fixing up the pastries on the display.

"Truthfully, I’m a little stuck. I have all these ideas swirling in my head, and I want to use them all, but I know it can’t be done."

"Well, if you ever need a fresh pair of eyes, mine are available."

"Good to know. I might take you up on that offer, though I should warn you, it's all just a bunch of crap. I don't even know why people keep buying  my books."

Just then, Bifur entered the store with two bags of flour.

"Good morning, Mister Bilbo! Where do you need these, Dori?" He smiled at them.

"Right here on the counter, if you don't mind."

The other man hauled the bags on the counter top, Dori reaching out to steady them. Their hands brushed for a brief moment, but it was enough to make both of them blush. Bilbo watched the incident from the sidelines, his curiosity piquing.

"Ahem. Thank you, Bifur." Dori floundered, but the man was already rushing back to the storage room.

 

A pregnant pause fell upon the room, as Dori busied himself with his inventories, while Bilbo waited for him to calm down.

"Dori," The writer started, "If you don't mind me asking, what is your relationship with Bifur?"

"I-I-I.. w-we're not in a relationship! I mean, there's no relationship. I mean, we are friends, obviously, but that's our only relationship!" He stuttered, his face turning crimson. He almost spilled a bottle of milk, before Bilbo took pity on him and led him to sit beside him.

"I didn't mean to be rude, Dori, but I do think we are friends, and I am willing to lend you my ears, just as you've offered me your services. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Just know that I am here to help."

The red-head was not placated, however, and it would seem that he was even more anxious now.

"It's not that I don't think of you as a friend, Bilbo." He hesitated, "It's just that, I, myself, don't really know what I'm feeling."

"It seemed pretty clear to me from where I'm sitting. You like him, he likes you, what's the problem there?"

Dori sighed, looking away from him. "I do like him, I don't deny that. But I can't let him get his hopes up. As you know, Ori is living with us. And between the shop and looking after him, I've hardly had the time for anything else, besides taking inventories and checking home-works. Then there's Nori. He goes off at night, doing shady work, and I can't help but worry about him all the time. It just seems unfair to burden someone else with my problems. I probably won't have enough time to spare him the attention he needs. He deserves better than me."

"Oh Dori, I'm sure Bifur will be good for you. Ori already likes him, and Nori is old enough to make his own decisions. Besides, Bifur doesn't seem like the type to think of those things as burdens. They reflect who you are. A caring, compassionate and loving man who values his family the most. If you ask me, I think that's what he likes about you. And don't you say he deserves better, because there is no one else better than you!" Bilbo ranted, feeling indignant on behalf of his friend. He knew what it felt like to be insecure and hopeless. If he could spare his friend from making the same mistakes he did, then he'd do whatever it took to make sure it doesn't happen.

Dori shuffled to his feet, turning back to put away his baking supplies.

"I'm still not ready." He said. Bilbo watched him, feeling poignant.

"For what it's worth, I think Ori and Nori would love it if you got together with Bifur. He makes you happy. Anyone can see that. You deserve that happiness, Dori."

 

The bell chimed as Frerin came in the shop. He froze halfway to them.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No!" Bilbo replied hurriedly, giving Dori an understanding look. "I was just about to leave. Dori needs his space to sort his things."

"Oh, well that's great! We can go grab lunch and I can tour you around Erebor.” The dark haired man was practically bouncing on his feet with glee.

“Go on, Bilbo. I’ve got a lot of _things_ to sort.” Dori waved him off. Bilbo thanked him for the tea and followed Frerin out on the street.

 

They walked a while, the dark-haired man pointing out the buildings and landmarks around the area. It was quite an educational experience for Bilbo. Erebor had always fascinated him because of its rich history and culture, but he never got the time to visit because it was too far away. Now, living in the heart of its city can be a little hard, especially when you're not used to the fast-paced lives of the urban life. He still missed his little garden and mornings walks where he doesn't get jostled around by people in the streets. But it has its perks too. 

They stop by a little vegan place, and Bilbo was surprised to know that the owners were the twin sons of Elrond. Frerin kept chattering all through the meal about everything and anything under the sun, his lively voice soothing Bilbo's frazzled mind.

"I'm surprised you know a lot about your city." Bilbo teased him.

"I mostly know about the buildings, as I am an architect."

"Oh? I suppose you do have that look about you. The brainy-artistic type"

"Really?"

"You and your brother, Thorin." Bilbo said as nonchalantly as he could, although his heart did skip a beat as he uttered the name.

Frerin's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"My siblings always had great culinary skills. I actually took up architecture because that's what I'm crap at cooking."

"What do they do, then?" The writer tried to ask innocently, although judging by the look Frerin gave him, he knew exactly what he was on about.

"Dis manages a catering service." He replied, "And Thorin owns our family restaurant."

"Really? Then why didn't we eat there?" The question was out before Bilbo could stop himself. The other man chuckled in response.

"It's a grill, and they usually just serve meat."

"So, you don't like meat?" Bilbo asked confusedly. Frerin didn't seem the type to favor vegetables, especially with the stories Frodo tell him about his friends and their families. _Being called weed-eaters!_

"Uh.. because you're vegan?" He finished lamely, looking as confused as the writer.

Bilbo's brows furrowed.

"...I'm not."

_Oh._ _  
_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> succeeding chapters will be posted on weekends. :)


	6. Baby Brother’s Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue. Carrots. and insults

Kili had never known life without his brother, Fili. He liked that their names are so similar and rhymes and  it made him laugh every time someone got confused with them, their faces scrunching up in a funny expression. He liked that

Kili looked up to Fili, because he was brave and kind. And he gave him his cookies when Kili finished his.

 _The bestest big brother in the whole world!_ There was certainly no one better than him, he had thought every night as he thanked Mahal before going to sleep.

Which was why he’s unsure of what he’s feeling towards Frodo.

The little boy with clear blue eyes and bouncy curls lit up his world like the sun. The first time he laid his eyes on him, his heart skipped a beat, and he thought he was having the _hippups_. But it felt different somehow, because he wasn’t squeaking nor coughing, but his stomach was all fluttery and weird.

Frodo was kind, yes. But he didn’t seem very brave or particularly valiant like his brother. Moreover, he looked soft and dainty, _like a princess_ , but he wasn’t gross like the girls who had cooties. It made him want to protect him, make sure he was always laughing and smiling, because he _just had to._

 

And Fili could see that, too. His baby brother, who used to sing praises of him, would prattle on and on about Frodo this and Frodo that. Don’t get him wrong, he liked the new kid well enough, but sometimes he missed being the person Kili adored the most.  

What he can’t deny was the look of awe in Kili’s eyes, when he saw Frodo reading with Ori at the corner of the room. They shone with such happiness, that he didn’t have the heart to hate the boy who took the attention of his brother from him.

 

“Do you think he’ll like this?” Kili asked, holding up what looked like a painting of a blue flower.

“Why is it blue?”

“Because Frodo’s eyes are blue!” he explained, “ And mum said that dad gave her a blue flower because it reminded him of her eyes.”

“Oh.” Fili could not say anything else.

“Here!” The younger child shoved another painting of a blue blob at his brother, the paper slightly creased at the edges.

“What’s this?” He questioned incredulously, not seeing any resemblance to any flower he had ever seen before.

“That’s a burger, silly!  Kili pouted.

“I don’t think Frodo likes burgers.”

“It’s for you. Because blue reminds me of your eyes too.”

Fili watched his brother continue babbling about Frodo and his leaves, only half listening. His tiny fist tightened around the painting, before carefully smoothing it out again.

“I think you should try to eat those leaves without making a face.” He finally said. “I’m sure Frodo would like that better than a painting of a flower.”

Kili gave him a pinched look. “But I don’t like them.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

“Really?!” the dark-haired child jumped from his seat, tackling his brother.

“Of course. That’s what big brothers are for.”

 

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“Does everyone in Shire only eat leaves?” Ori questioned, looking up from his painting of a turkey, although at this point, it was mostly just a brown mess.

“They’re _vegetables,_ Ori.” Frodo glared at him and his friend had the decency to look apologetic. “And no. Some eat meat too. My cousin Pippin is vegan like me, but my other cousin Merry and our gardener’s son, Sam are not. But you don’t see anyone in the Shire making a face when they eat vegetables!”

“O-oh.”

“In fact, we Bagginses are always admired for making the best feasts without meat. We have spring rolls, potato and chickpea curry, nut loaf, leek and corn stuffed peppers, strawberry cobbler-oh! And Uncle Bilbo makes the best mushroom-chestnut-cranberry-tart!”

Ori was practically drooling by the time Frodo finished his rant. All the food he mentioned did seem delicious.

“It must be really nice living with him. You’re lucky you have a vegan uncle. If your relatives had been like mine, you would’ve starved.”

“Uncle’s not vegan.” The little Baggins said, continuing with his art. “He eats meat, just like you, but he gets lazy fixing up his own meals so he just eats whatever he makes me. Mum said that everyone in Hobbiton was surprised when they found out, because all Bagginses are vegans. But his dad, Granpa Bungo married an adventurous Took who ate anything, so they didn’t think it was too strange. But Untie Lobelia teased uncle whenever she came over for tea.”

“That must have been hard. I know how relatives can be mean sometimes.”

“It's alright, uncle never minded them.  Granny Bella was a wonderful cook, and made everyone jealous that she could make vegan food better than anyone!”

“Good for them!”

 

“Speaking of food.” Frodo got up to get his snack. “I want you to try this. It’s really good!” He held out an empanada.

Ori eyes the offered food suspiciously. But he remembers all the mouth-watering cuisines frodo’s uncle makes and decided to try it out. He gave it a tentative lick, and once he’s certain it was edible, he finally took a bite.

“Hmm… Not ba—ack!!” he screamed, spitting out a half chewed celery and rushing from the room.

“Mmffhargh!!” he ran to the bathroom, leaving Frodo.

The other child just sat quietly by himself, looking sad at the empanada on the floor Ori had thrown in his distress. He was mad and miserable. Frodo had done everything he could to get Ori to eat vegetables. Kili at least swallows them, even if he does grimace at the after-taste. Fili doesn’t seem to have any problem eating them at all. But Ori was just too stubborn. And he was running out of ideas.

His eyes started to water.

Suddenly, there's a hand patting his curls, and he looked up to see Bolg. He’s holding out a baby carrot in his pudgy hands. Despite Frodo's doubts of its cleanliness, he took it. The bigger kid beamed at him, and that smile made him feel a little better.

"Thanks, Bolg." He said.

The blonde simply sat beside him, and just as Frodo was about to ask why, his face was unexpectedly enveloped in large, warm hands as a kiss was pressed on his forehead.

 

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The Lonely Mountain Grill and Barbeque.

Home of the best smoked barbeque ribs east of the country, and the Durin family's hopes and dreams. This was their legacy.

Its authentic charcoal grills sizzle from ten to eight, the mouth-watering aroma of cooking meat wafting through the air that not even the strongest man can resist. The dark mahogany walls were lined with photographs dating back from three generations, each with their own families and friends, holding up trophies.

For three generations, various members of the Durin clan had claimed the title "King of the Grill". Thorin's grandather, Thror, his father, Thrain, and Thorin himself all won the trophy, and now, seventy years after the founding of the restaurant, the Durin line was still the defending champion.

 

Frerin knows how much the grill meant to his brother. And although he's looked up to him, as all little brothers are bound to do at one point in their lives, he never envied Thorin. For all his achievements, the younger Durin knows the sacrifices he had made to achieve them- endless sleepless nights, working hard to improve himself, and even giving up on finding love.

_No one truly succeeds without a give-up story._

Thorin had always been selfless and caring, though he might look a bit gruff. But underneath it all is a giant cuddly bear waiting to give out hugs. Just don't tell that to his face.

That never stopped him or Dis from worrying about their oldest sibling and his increasing propensity for solitude. He used to date people back in his college days, but after they fell on hard times, there was less partying. And by the time he took over the restaurant, the scowl was a permanent fixture on his face.

Frerin, most of all, wanted him to be happy, but Durins by nature were a stubborn lot. Once Thorin had come into a decision, very little could dissuade him otherwise. And when he had given up _frivolities_ such as dating, it broke the young man’s heart to see his brother’s eyes harden in his self imposed isolation.

But no matter how disciplined Thorin was, he was still human. There were those lingering looks to attractive passersby, considering glances at friendly customers, and the small hint of smiles at some of his flirty regulars.

Thorin had always gravitated towards the cute and adorable types with a mean independent streak.

Sweet and tough.

And it wasn’t such a long-shot that when Bilbo appeared, with his guileless smiles and sharp tongue, the bells immediately went off in Frerin’s head. The small man was simply _perfect_ for his brother.

Befriending him was easy enough, as he was open and friendly. It didn't take long for the Durin to formulate a plan to get him together with his brother.

Be friends. Introduce Thorin. Shove them in a room. See what happens(not literally).

But Thorin, being Thorin, just had to sabotage his own happiness. The frown on his face and Bilbo’s distressed messages were enough to tell him that his plan was not going to work out as smoothly as it should. In hindsight, he should’ve realized it sooner, because he forgot to take into account his brother’s award-winning social skills. There was very little doubt in his mind that everything wrong that had happened was Thorin’s fault.

But he loved his brother, nonetheless, and was willing to help fix his mess.

Even if the said man doesn’t even realize the mess he’s in.

 

“I know!” Frerin’s eyes twinkled in delight. “Why don’t you and Frodo come over for a barbeque?”

Bilbo pulled his face.

“It’d be really cool! Everyone will be happy to meet you. And Kili hasn't shut up about the new friend he's made.” he said excitedly.

“And how will that work exactly? If I bring Frodo there, he’d just feel out of place since he's vegan. Besides, I’ve heard enough stories about your barbaric clan and eating habits that I will not let my nephew imitate.”

“Aww, come on! We're not that bad. And we could make vegan barbeque too! I’m sure Thorin could do something like that. I told you, my siblings are great at cooking.”

“I don’t want to trouble anyone.”  
“You won’t! You already know most of us already, and everyone else is dying to meet you! It’ll be like an unofficial welcoming party for you and Frodo. PLEAAAASE??”

The taller man gave him his best puppy-eyed look. On any other person, it might've looked ridiculous. A man almost a foot taller with wide eyes and pouted lips, bushy eyebrows drawn together. It was the very picture of hilarity.

If only he didn't remind Bilbo so much of his older brother.

“Fine!" he conceded. "But I’m helping with the cooking, and don’t try to stop me.”

“Hurray!” Frerin pumped his fist into the air and doing a silly victory dance in the middle of the street.

They've been walking along a strange block for a while now, and when Bilbo caught sight of a signboard painted navy blue and gold up ahead, he immediately paled.

“Frerin, where are we going?”

“Hmm? To the grill of course.”

“What grill?"

"Thorin's grill."

 

Bilbo stopped in his tracks, but Frerin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the dark oaken door of the restaurant, despite his resistance.

"Frerin!” He hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them, although by now everyone was already looking at them anyway.

“ I'm showing you around, remember? You said I should’ve brought us here for lunch.”

“Yes. But we already had lunch.”

“We’re just stopping by for a quick visit then.”

“No! I told you what happened at  the school. I Don’t want to face Thorin if he’s going to act like that again!”

“Don’t worry! I told you I’d take care of it, and I took care of it.”

“Really? and how did you do that?”

“You’ll see.” Frerin opened the door  and silently prayed his brother wouldn’t make him a liar.

 

“Ah, Frerin! You haven’t come nearly as often. I hope you aren’t picking up people from vegan joints again.” Bombur greeted him happily, while wiping a table. There was only a few people inside, mostly having a snack and being served at the bar.

“Of course NOT! Why does everyone think that?”

“Because it’s what you do.”

“It is not! It was just one time.”

“Try more than a dozen. At least you’re not moping about anymore.”

“What’s going on out here?” Thorin's booming voice was all the warning Bilbo got before the older Durin appeared in front of them in his white chef’s outfit, and even in that, he looked majestic. The blonde man was not proud to say that he dove behind Bombur in his panicked state.

“Why does everyone insist on being a bother during work hours.” Thorin growled at them.  
“You weren’t doing anything! You’re apron isn’t on.” Frerin pointed out.

“I was cooking, until I heard you making a ruckus." He replied easily."Don’t you have somewhere to be? Someone else to annoy? Like that chubby Boggins.”

Thorin did not understand why his brother suddenly looked alarmed. It was only a joke, afterall, he liked his men pleasantly plump. Though not as plump as Bombur.

“Ahem.” Bilbo cleared his throat as the stout man stepped aside to reveal him glowering at the older Durin. All words died in Thorin’s mouth.

 

“Hello, I’m Bilbo _Baggins._ ” He shook Bombur’s hand, but didn’t even bother covering up his apprehension at Thorin.

“H-hello! I’m Bombur.” The rotund ginger man said, “I've heard so much about you from my brother.”

“Bofur right? Nice fellow. All good things, I hope. “

“Of course!”

There was an awkward silence as Thorin stared at Bilbo, while Bilbo ignored him.

“You’ve met Thorin, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He grimaced. Thorin glowered at him, and was about to say something when Frerin jumped in.

“I’ve invited Bilbo and Frodo to the barbeque as a welcoming party for them!”

“Wha-”

“That’s great!” Bombur drowned out what was probably a protest from Thorin. “We love throwing parties, as you will realize. There’s lots of food and booze. Though you’ll have to put up with Thorin and his perfectionism. Don’t try to take the spatula from him or there’ll be hell.” He stage whispered the last part and Frerin laughed.

“Oh, Bilbo’s gonna have to. He’d helping with the cooking.”

“Really?” Thorin harrumphed, and they turned to him. “You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“I insist.” the short man all but snarled at him. “It’s really no trouble at all since I used to cook at all our parties at Hobbiton."

Bombur and Frerin felt the temperature drop as the two continued to glare at each other.

 "Unless you don’t think my cooking is good enough to be served at _your_ barbeque.” Bilbo said through gritted teeth.

“That’s not what I’m saying.-”

“Then what is it you're saying?”

“We’re not fond of vegetables!”

“So I’ll cook meat!”

Thorin looked taken aback. “You?” He really didn’t mean for the question to come out the way it did, but of course it only insulted Bilbo further.

Those adorable cheeks puffed up and reddened.

“Right.” He turned to the other Durin. “We really should go. You know, places to be, people to annoy.”

Bilbo marched out of The Lonely Mountain leaving a flabbergasted Thorin and Bombur behind, Frerin barely keeping up with his strides.

“See you at the barbeque, Bilbo!” Bombur hastily shouted at the retreating backs.

 

 

“You really should try harder to be kinder to him. Or at the very least, more polite. It's not nice to take out your anger at innocent people.”

Thorin continued scrubbing at the pot, not even deigning to reply at Bombur. He doesn’t think of Bilbo as innocent since he’s the reason why he’s been on edge lately. Him and his stupid oaf of a brother. Thinking about the two of them together only made him scrub harder at the poor kitchenwear.

“I know you’re frustrated, but that was just ridiculous.”

His sue-chef looked at the charred remains of what Thorin had been cooking.

“You were making that for Bilbo weren’t you?”

“No! Why would I?” he denied vehemently, losing his grip of the crockery.

“Who’s it for then? We’re _not fond of vegetables_ remember?”

Thorin went silent, the comment stinging his already wounded pride. Bombur took pity on him and just sighed.

“Apologize to him. What have you got to lose?”

“He hates me.”

“He seems like a pretty decent man. And from what I've heard, folks from the Shire don’t hold on to grudges. Not like us here. He might surprise you yet.”

The Durin only picked up the pot and scrubbed again, hoping the other man would take the hint and drop the subject.

“Ha! Men of Erebor aren’t known for their wits, indeed.” With an exasperated huff, Bombur threw his hands up and left Thorin.

 

A moment later, his phone chirped a familiar annoying tone. One he'd reserved for his brother. He opened Frerin’s message and almost immediately wished he hadn't.

 _“You’re losing brother. ;)”_ it read.

Thorin cursed and threw it down, before going in the pantry again for the hundredth time that day, pulling out various vegetables and ingredients. He opened his new cookbook at another vegan recipe, vowing that he will not fail this time.

As he mashed and grounded the various spices, his thoughts drifted back to the day at the grocery store.

_Why did he eat the hotdog?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if there's some things you don't understand. some of the texts sometimes don't get copied when I paste it on the chapter text. Weird.


	7. Jealous Bunch

Dis had seen his brothers grow up, Frerin always looking up to Thorin, while his older brother made sure to take care of the family. She loved them both, and couldn’t help the fond smile as she remembered Frerin always trying to emulate their noble brother. Dis recalled the many failed attempts at cooking and kitchen disasters. To appease him, Thorin had been the one to encourage him to take up architecture and supported him throughout his education. Afterwards, he also suggested Frerin design all of the renovations in The Lonely Mountain, which made him immensely happy. Even when money was tight, he always found a way to provide for them. When their parents died and their business took a turn for the worse, Thorin devoted all of his life making sure they had everything they needed, while Frerin did his best to help out as much as he could in between his studies. They worked together to reform The Lonely Mountain into the best grill again.

She was envious of their sibling relationship, because as the only girl of their lot, she was never treated the same way as them. Granted that she was somewhat more coddled and was _allowed_ certain privileges, sometimes Dis wished she was as close to them as they were.

But the problem with growing up the way they did was that their taste also became somewhat similar, especially in their love interests. As a young lass, she’d seen Frerin parade around both men and women, and watched Thorin’s eyes linger a little longer on them. She remembered Thranduil, and how the blonde interacted with her brothers. While Frerin was tripping over his own feet to please him, the two-faced, slimy git was busy seducing Thorin, albeit inconspicuously. But ever the valiant brother, Thorin never encouraged nor looked twice at him, even when she knew his resolve was also waning. It took a lot of effort and delicacy to keep Frerin from finding out the real reason why the blonde left. Despite her heartsick brother, she was glad he was gone. It would’ve ended up in a catastrophe if it had gone on any longer.

This was what she was feeling about Frerin’s misguided endeavour to hook Bilbo and Thorin up. She was all up for making the grumpy chef happy, and it wasn’t utterly hopeless, for she could see her brother already half in love with the writer. The problem was, although he may deny it even to himself, Frerin was falling in love with Bilbo too.

The situation she was trying to avoid might just happen right before her eyes. And this time, it might be too late to stop it.

 

 “Oh, Bilbo!” Dis waved, recognizing the mop of curly hair. She had been waiting on a park bench for the school to end, mulling over the delicate circumstances on hand when she saw him.

_What better way to understand the problem than gathering data from the source itself?_

The man hesitantly approached her, eyeing the empty space beside her.

“Hello.” He greeted politely, sketching a small bow. Dis liked him aready.

“Sorry for not introducing myself. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel I know you already! My name is Dis.”

“Ah, you’re Frerin’s sister.”

“Among other things, yes.” She laughed brightly. Bilbo matched it with his own, his face brightening and making him look positively angelic. Dis could see how her brothers could fall for him.

“I am very pleased to finally meet you. Frerin speaks fondly of his siblings.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s a lie! My brothers are a couple of knuckleheads and have manners of a grizzly bear.” She paused, “Speaking of which, I would like to apologize on behalf of Thorin. He’s emotionally constipated, and years of having only the pots and pans for company had made him incapable of interacting with normal people.”

 

The other man smiled wryly at her. “So you’ve heard about that?” he said, but more to himself than to Dis.

“Gossip travels fast, especially if it’s about my family making an ass of themselves.”

“Well, he was only saying the truth. I am rounder than your usual people here. It’s fine. I may have overreacted a little bit too.”

Dis looked at his sullen face and saw something that made her think Thorin may not just be having a one-sided crush.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Bilbo.” She moved closer to him and stage whispered. “Just between you and me, my brothers like the plump ones best.”

“Now you’re the one who’s lying!” He cried, but the blush on his cheeks was already making him stutter.

Dis only laughed good-naturedly. “It’s a shame there’s not much people of your physique in Erebor. All we have are the tall or muscled ones.”

“You should move to Hobbiton, then. You’ll find that my _plumpness_ is actually quite normal there. We tend to overindulge in the many comforts and pleasures of life.” Bilbo recovered, but only for a moment as Dis sent him a suggestively knowing look that turned his face a fierce scarlet shade.

“Not that kind of pleasure!” he cried once again, hiding his face behind his hands.

 

“I’ll take your word for it then, Mr. Baggins.” She took pity on the poor man. “Oh, we’ll have so much fun at the barbeque! And you’ll get to meet my husband too. I promise he’s not as uncivilized as the others.”

“I’ll look forward to that.” He sighed in relief as his blush finally died down.

“I also heard you’ll be cooking with Thorin?”

“Well, I think I should contribute, but since your majestic brother had insulted my capability to cook, I think I’ll just be making desserts.” He scoffed.

“Feel free to throw him into the fire if he does insult you again. He doesn’t do it to be mean. His mouth is just connected to his ass instead of his brain.” They laughed at this.

“See you tomorrow, Bilbo.” She said just as the school bell rang and a multitude of children rushed out of the iron gates.

Dis had enough time to glimpse back at the man as he ushered an equally curly haired child unto the streets. An unbidden thought came while she watched the small child babble happily to his uncle.

Frodo would fit in with the Durins quite nicely, with his raven locks and baby blue eyes. If it had been possible, she would even be inclined to believe he was the lovechild of Bilbo and her brother.

 

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Ori was at Gandalf’s store again. He always stayed there when Nori couldn’t get him at school. The young red-head never minded it though because he got to spend his afternoon reading. The pictures were nice enough to look at when he didn’t understand the words, and Bifur sometimes gave him wooden toys. The dark haired man was always quiet, but he had kind eyes and warm hands. He knows where the best books are and always made sure to make his stay comfortable.

The child sneaked a glance at Dori and Bifur speaking quietly at the corner. Lately, the two of them had been doing that a lot. He wondered what they could be whispering about.

Suddenly, a burly man in his blue uniform burst in and the two adults jumped apart. Ori squeaked in surprise and almost fell off his seat if the policeman hadn’t steadied him.

“Sorry ‘bout that, lad.” He apologized sheepishly.

Dori tutted at him before rummaging at the counter to bring out some food to offer.

“Tea?” The oldest Rison asked.

“Just the biscuits. Please.” The bald man answered, adding the last part after receiving a baleful look from Bifur. He sat down next to the small child and looked to be contemplating something as the ginger man placed the plate of sweets.

“So. You’re coming to the barbeque right?” Dwalin inquired nonchalantly, handing a cookie to Ori.

“Hmm? Well, Bifur did invite us, and Ori wanted to play with Kili and FIli, so yes. We’ll probably come.”

“Only you and Ori?”

“I still have to ask Nori- that is, if I can get him to stay put longer than a second. Honestly, these days, I don’t even know where he is.”

 

The child next to him gasped loudly. “Will he be bringing his lady friend?” he chimed in. “Ms. Tauriel was teaching me about colors!”

“Who’s Ms. Tauriel?” Dwalin grunted, his mouth pulled in a frown.

“She’s his partner. Really pretty but scary as hell.” Dori was oblivious to the other man’s darkening mood.

“Oh.”

“Though I do hope my brother finds someone soon. It might make him less reckless.”

 

Dwalin only snorted, doubting Nori will ever be _not_ reckless, before remembering something and pulling them from his jacket.

“Here you go, Ori.” He passed him a coloring book and a new box of crayons.

“Thank you, mister Dwalin!” The child gave him a toothy smile, already flipping through the pages eagerly.

 “You really don’t need to do that, Dwalin.” Dori crossed his arms at him. “You and Bifur are already spoiling him so much.”

“It’s nothing, really. Little lads should know their colors, afterall. And besides, he’s such a good kid.”

At this, Dori’s eyes softened, watching Ori’s little face as he cheerfully hummed a tune while coloring his new book. Despite not being his biological parent, Dwalin recognized the contented look on the Rison, one he’d seen on Dis and, on occasion,Thorin. It was that certain look of incredible love that one would have for his own child, and it made the older man look years younger, bringing out an exotic kind of beauty on him. No wonder Bifur was head over heels for him.

“Ahem.” The policeman coughed as politely as he could, “I’d best be going now.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry for spacing out.”

“No, I’m the one who barges in here for free food.”Dwalin got up. “If there’s anything you need from me, don’t hesitate to ask.” He pressed a large hand on Dori’s arm and looked intensely into his eyes.

Dori blushed at the scrutiny but managed to mumble out an awkward, “T-thank you. Dwalin. I greatly appreciate it.” before disappearing into the kitchen.

Off to the side, Bifur was seething on his corner as he glared daggers at Dwalin’s retreating back.

 

 

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Kili was silent on the way home and it was scaring Fili. In all his life, his baby brother had never stayed quiet longer than a minute. He had always laughed uproariously, cried loudest and made the fussiest tantrums children could ever do. Every movement he made had a matching sound that gave life to his very existence. Yet here he was, sulking (or he daresay _brooding_ ) silently. Fili spied the scrunched up art paper half-shoved in his knapsack and knew something went wrong when Kili went to give Frodo his picture.

“Were you good today?” Their mother’s voice cut through the tense air in the car, though the younger of the two didn’t appear to have heard it. Dis and Fili shared a worried glance over the rear view mirror.

“Yup! We made lots of pictures.” The light haired child winced as he realized that the topic was a little sore spot and tried to steer it in a different conversation. “Papa’s coming home tomorrow for the party, right?”

Kili seemed to perk up at this but stubbornly said nothing. It didn’t matter though, as Dis already knew what to do.

“We’ve also invited Bilbo and Frodo.” She reported. At this, her youngest son smiled widely at her.

“Really?!”

“Yes. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“And you can introduce Frodo to dad.” Fili suggested, catching on immediately.

Kili’s eyes shined brightly. “Of course I will! Do you think dad will stay long?”

“I’m not sure, sweetie. Your papa needs to get back protecting our country.”

“But I want him to be there! He has to be!”

“Where, Kili? Where should papa be?” FIli felt as confused as his mom.

“At my wedding!”

Dis paused and had to stop the car at the curb to keep them from getting into any auto-related accident.

“Who are you getting married to, darling?” she all but whispered. Crushes were all well and good, but to talk of marriage--.

_Where did he even get that kind of idea? Unless..._

Fili gulped and dreaded the answer.

“To Frodo!” the dark haired child exclaimed gleefully.

His brother could only stare back at his mother as she gave him an accusing glare. Fili knew that telling his brother lies would eventually bite him back in the butt tenfold.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, you can already tell that English is not my native language. feel free to point out any mistakes and sentences(paragraphs) that confuse you. I'd really appreciate it if you could help me improve the story better. 
> 
> With that said, I'm not sure where I'm going with this. This idea suddenly hit me while revising for my exams, and I couldn't let it go. I have a basic story lined up, but it could do a little bit of fattening up. Comments/ suggestions/ constructive criticisms are welcome!


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